Toy
by SetsunaNoroi
Summary: Phantom discovers Ghost Writer and decideds he'll be fun to play with. The writer goes along with it out of both confusion and fear. How does Phantom really feel about him, and if this just some sick game, why is he being so tender? Rated M


Yeah, I needed to put this up. I saw a couple pics of Dan and Ghost Writer and I just had to write a little something for them. This is, once again, dedicated to Flying Horror, who happened to draw the picture that uh... inspired me. Yeah. Lets go with that.

Don't own it. Considering I've written practically nothing but porn for it, that's probably a good thing. We don't want to scare all the little kiddies, now do we?

_**Toy**_

Ghost Writer can still remember the first time he meet him. It was possibly... no, it was most certainly the scariest moment in his entire existence. He'd been reading, completely content and peaceful at his his couch when suddenly a large explosion sounded at the entrance to his library, the large doors literally flying off their hinges, smoke and dust billowing around the now destroyed portion of the building. There standing in the middle of it all was large ghost with white hair that moved like flame and a smirk on his lips that for some reason immediately reminded Ghost Writer of a devil.

He would later realize the first assessment had not been far off.

The ghost walked forward, very casual considering he had just blown apart the door to come in. Despite the situation, Ghost Writer felt himself annoyed. It's not like the thing had been locked. Still, something was screaming in his head not to say anything.

His expression was of mild curiosity, as if he had never been in a library before. He looked at the shelves of book with a small interest. He ignored Ghost Writer though, as if he were not even there, or worse yet, as if him being there didn't affect anything.

"Um," Ghost Writer eventually decided to try. "Can I... uh... help you?"

His attention was caught almost immediately and his gaze snapped to the smaller ghost. He frowned a little.

"Oh, I didn't realize you were still here," he said. "Not that I really care, but why the hell aren't you running away?"

"Should I be?" Ghost Writer asked before he even thought about it then swallowed. The look on the other's face told him immediately that yes, he should be running away.

"Most usually do," he said. "But I'm guessing your either brave or ignorant. Do you know who I am?"

"No," Ghost Writer admitted.

He'd half expected the ghost to get angry for some reason, but instead he just grinned.

"Interesting. I hadn't come to this part of the Ghost Zone before, but I never would have thought people wouldn't know who I was. It's been nine years after all."

Nine years? Ghost Writer didn't think he'd left his house for about fifteen or longer.

"I don't get out much," he explained. This whole conversation was turning out to be very surreal. Here he was having a conversation with someone who had destroyed part of his home and who he could somehow tell was very dangerous. He had a feeling he should have been flying away in the opposite direction as fast as possible, but he wasn't.

Why?

"I don't think I've ever come across someone that doesn't know me," he murmured as he started to approach Ghost Writer. "At least, not since I started my... hobbies."

"Hobbies?" he asked as the warning bells really started to go off in his head.

This only caused the other to chuckle.

"Call me Phantom," he whispered. He was very close to Ghost Writer now, almost leaning over him. "Are you the only one who lives here?"

"Y...yes," he said uncertainly.

He was getting looked down at, the look in Phantom's eyes purely predatory. He swallowed, fear beginning to prickle in the pit of his stomach.

"Why a library?"

"I'm a writer," he answered. "Hence my name, Ghost Writer."

"Huh," he replied, not sounding that interested. "I guess you like books a lot."

"Well, yes," he said again. Where was this going?

Phantom leaned down and picked up the book that had ended up on the couch, looking at it with a sort of bored expression. With a sudden smirk, the book burst into green flames right in front of a horrified Ghost Writer's eyes.

"NO!" he screamed and jumped for the book, only to have his throat grabbed by Phantom, who smiled wickedly at him.

"This is my hobby," he whispered. "I destroy."

Ghost Writer struggled, desperately trying to get to the book, even at it crumbled to ashes on the floor. He felt tears prickling in his eyes as he stared in horror at what had just happened. It was gone so quickly, all gone. Phantom let him go and he fell to his knees, picking up the still smoldering pieces.

"Well that certainly didn't last," he said tauntingly. "Shall we make the rest of them glow now?"

He looked terrified up at Phantom and immediately grabbed at his arm.

"No! No please I beg you! Don't! I'll do anything!" he cried out.

Phantom grinned down at him.

"Really?" he asked. "Anything, for some books?"

"Yes, anything!" he said desperately.

Phantom looked like he was thinking about something for a second then looked at him levelly.

"All right," he said and suddenly grabbed him spun him around, forcing him to kneel over on his couch.

"H-hey!" he cried out. "What are you doing?!"

"Oh hush, I'm being nice here. Keep that in mind or I might change my mind."

Ghost Writer could feel his heart jump in his throat when his trench coat was pulled to the side and his pants were literally torn apart. He bit back any protests even as the cold air hit his exposed skin, willing to go through any torture if it meant the safety of his books.

"Pretty," he heard Phantom comment, finger tracing over his cheeks. Ghost Writer shivered, repulsed. He just wanted this over with.

He was surprised when he felt a tongue sweep over his skin and his eyes widened. His fingers clutched to the couch, wondering what in the world this ghost was planning. He'd been expecting immediate pain, to get hurt, yet Phantom was kissing and licking at his back sides, finger pressed into his hips and massaging gently.

Ghost Writer groaned, actually aroused. This was... this was... He gasped when his cheeks got spread and a that wet tongue flicked at his hole. His sensitive skin had never been touched in such a way, and he could feel every lick, every probe and kiss. Whining a little, he pivoted his hips, actually wanting more.

'Oh god,' he thought as the tongue slowly descended down past his cheeks, lower and lower. He jumped in shock when lips reached his sack, suckling lightly at the skin. He guessed Phantom didn't like that, as he was quickly forced to turn around and his back was shoved into the couch harshly.

"Stop moving," he growled in Ghost Writer's flushed face before lowering his head and swallowing his member whole. His voice caught in his throat as his leg were crudely placed over Phantom's shoulders and he was sucked off harshly. He wasn't even fully hard, but he was getting there quickly from the ministrations. Hand wove in Phantom's hair and he was surprised when he realized it didn't burn. It flickered around his fingers, yet was somehow solid enough to grab. Ghost Writer tugged a little at it, but only to vent some of his frustration, not to actually trying to stop him. He was too terrified of the consequences if he resisted, and really... he was enjoying this.

Maybe because he'd never really been touched like this, but he didn't last long. In fact, his ejaculation was so sudden and unexpected he was completely caught by surprise. He barely got any pleasure from it either. Phantom had pulled away before that point, as if knowing it was coming when Ghost Writer hadn't, and it caused the hot white liquid to cover the writer's lap.

Without a word, Phantom stood and dusted himself off, leaving Ghost Writer to curl into a ball and pull his trench coat over him, trying to cover himself from the shame. He had been expecting much worse, but it didn't make him feel any less used.

"What book was it that I burned?" Phantom suddenly asked.

Ghost Writer looked up at him confused. Why did he care?

"Uh... Shakespeare's story, Hamlet," he replied slowly.

"Hmm, fine," he said and turned away. He said nothing else, just left and Ghost Writer saw no reason to stop him. He just lay there for a while, feeling very numb.

Some days later he was sitting in his library again. The door had long since been fixed. With his keyboard, it was an easy thing to accomplish. A loud boom sounded and he looked up startled to see Phantom once again at his doorway, only this time he had simply kicked it open. He didn't even get a chance to say anything before Phantom was suddenly in front of him, grinning. Ghost Writer stumbled back against the wall, shocked anyone could be so fast.

"What do you-Mff!"

His word were cut off suddenly from the hand grabbing at his mouth and he was whirled around and shoved against the wall. Seriously, what was with Phantom and doing that to him? His irritated thoughts quickly gave way to fear though when the hand not covering his mouth quickly undid his pants and grasped his member. He was grasped without any kind of explanation and felt those strong fingers that could probably rip him limb from limb play with him. Once again, he was surprised the gentle but insistent pace as his body reacted despite how he felt about this emotionally. The hand slid over him quickly squeezing at his sack and moving to another part to touch.

He writhed at being fondled, his cries muffled even as his hips moved along with it. Hips pressed against his backside and thrust into him, dry humping him. He heard little feral growls in his ear and tried not to get too afraid from the sensations. It was a little rough, but not nearly as bad as it really should have been.

He felt like he was being used, yet... why did Phantom not simply fuck him and get it over with? This was twice now that he was giving him pleasure. It was unwanted attention, but it was still pleasure. How could Phantom be satisfied by this?

It lasted a bit longer this time as well, and he could feel his orgasm approaching. His shout was cut off by the hand on his face and was held against Phantom's body when he was sure he would have just slipped boneless to the floor. Lips pressed softly against his cheek after the palm left and he looked at the ghost curiously.

"Wha-"

Lips again assaulted him, this time on his own. The kiss was surprisingly sweet and chaste and when Phantom pulled away, he smiled.

"Our first kiss," he murmured pleasantly.

Ghost Writer was a little paranoid from the way he said first. For some reason, it really worried him.

"I have a gift for you," Phantom said and pressed something into Ghost Writer's hands. He looked down to see a copy of Hamlet. Eyes widening in surprise, he didn't even notice the other Ghost pull away.

"You better enjoy it," he was informed. "You know how many bookstore owners I had to chase down to get that thing? Way too many."

Ghost Writer bit back the comment that maybe if he wasn't such a heartless monster maybe that wouldn't be a problem. Instead he just adjusted his clothing and clutched the book to his chest as if it were a life line in the sea of sudden confusion he was feeling.

"Why are you doing this?" he found himself whispering.

"Because I want to," he was told simply. "And I'm use to being able to do what I want. I'd get use to it if I were you."

Ghost Writer received another kiss before Phantom left. Ghost Writer watched him go, feeling very odd about this whole situation.

The third time Phantom showed up, it was much more consensual. Ghost Writer was actually asleep, awoken by hands caressing his naked chest. He shouldn't have been surprised to see Phantom above him, but he was. And even more than that, the ghost was naked, and so was he. He knew he hadn't gone to bed in the nude and wondered how long Phantom had been in his bed before Ghost Writer's mind had registered it.

His shock wore off though when he was kissed and he groaned softly at the pressure on his lips. He didn't know why he wrapped his arms around Phantom's neck, but the action was already done, so he pulled the ghost closer to him. He felt something very hard press against him thigh and he froze. Phantom was very... well equipped.

He snorted mentally at himself. Yes, saying it like that wasn't any less intimidating, not at all.

He gasped suddenly when Phantom ground against him, the fiction causing an instant spark of arousal in him. Phantom paid him no mind, simply thrusting as if inside of Ghost Writer. The writer was already aroused, no doubt it developing while he'd been asleep and he was more than happy to move his hips along with the other man.

Pants and whimpers filled the dark room. There weren't any words spoken. They weren't really needed. Only the movement mattered to Ghost Writer. He could feel everything, the body pressed against him, the lips roaming over his neck and cheeks, the heat creeping in his face as the whole room became hotter with each passing moment.

There was still a nagging thought in the back of his head though. Why was this happening? Why was Phantom, who had been obvious about his cruel nature, doing this to him? What was he getting out of this besides giving Ghost Writer so much satisfaction?

Hands grabbed his hips suddenly and shoved him deep into the mattress. He gave a shout of surprise when Phantom sat up and thrust wildly, barely giving the poor writer time to think. His mind went blank as sexual tension coiled in his stomach, the pace pressing against harsh, fast, and forceful. He wasn't surprised when his member gave out first, sprouting all over the two before Phantom grabbed and pumped him quickly, milking out the rest of his essence. Phantom actually last much longer as hands explored Ghost Writer's skin before bursting himself, coating Ghost Writer's thighs and stomach with the hot sticky liquid.

Phantom collapsed intentionally on him, grinning contently. In fact, Ghost Writer was fairly sure he heard the other man purring. How... odd. He shifted slightly and nuzzled at the writer's neck, nipping at the skin playfully. Ghost Writer sighed and let him do it, wondering on the behavior.

"Can I ask you something?" he eventually forced himself to say.

"Hmm?"

"Why are you... acting like this towards me?" he asked. "Why have you broken into my house three times only to pleasure me? Why do you touch me like this?"

"You'd rather I just rape the shit out of you?" Phantom asked flatly.

"N-no!" he cried out flustered. "I'm just curious."

"I dunno. Maybe because you didn't know what I was. Everyone else just runs and screams. As amusing as it is, it's also... predicable. Boring. You amuse me though, and so does this." Phantom suddenly grinned maliciously and bared his teeth. "And if you want to keep your precious library, you'll make sure that never changes."

Ghost Writer's eyes widened in shock.

"Wait, what?"

"You heard me. You're mine now, my own personal little fuck toy. If you want to keep your books from burning, you'll keep me from getting bored with you. And keep in mind," he said with a snarl, "I get bored easily."

---------

Ghost Writer shivered, his hands tied in front of his face and his eyes covered by the blindfold Phantom had wanted him to wear. It had been months since this whole thing had started and Phantom had yet to leave him alone. The nightly romps of sex had become more steady, and more rough. It was a steady climb though and it was always just a little bit more than last time. Ghost Writer wondered if Phantom was building up his tolerance.

He heard footsteps approaching and he whimpered, a little scared and a little excited, same as always. He'd learned Phantom liked him like that, apprehensive but still willing. He supposed it could be worse, but knew it could be much better.

The bondage thing was uncomfortable. He didn't think he cared for it. It didn't matter though. He had to put up with it. Phantom wanted to play like this, and that was all that was important. Ghost Writer had no room to protest.

After all, he was just a toy.

End

I can't believe I wrote a rape fic with no actual explicit rape in it. I mean wow, seriously, there's just something odd about that. Still I enjoyed Phantom in this, and poor GW. He's so abused at times. Still he seems to like it, so no one really loses. Or maybe I'm trying to make myself feel better. Probably.

Also, on a note, this is my 25th story that I have published here. Yay me and all that jive.

Please review. It keeps me motivated to make more of this perverted nonsense. Wait... which means its all your fault I'm writing this! No more guilt! I'm off scott free! WOO HOO!


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